by K. Trotta

A young boy of about twelve with mossy brown hair was running down the street. He'd just managed to escape chore-duty at the orphanage when a copy of the Junon Times caught his eye.

"STRIFE ESCAPED!" the headline read.

The boy gasped and ran up to the machine to read the rest through the glass: "Cloud Strife, former president of AVALANCHE, was pulled into custody last week after an attempted murder of his ex-wife, Tifa Lockhart. Put in lockdown at the Junon Detention Center, he was said to be sullen and soft-spoken all week, until last night when the guards heard maniacal laughter coming from his cell. "It was his voice. I swear to God, it was his voice. We went down and unlocked his cell and there were three men with grey hair standing behind him. They ripped Lefty and Archie apart, and they left me for dead. They just walked right over us...and Strife...Strife, he was dancing and singing like a madman! A mad- CONTINUED ON PAGE 8A"

Denzel's eyes opened wide and he fumbled through his pockets for change (even though he knew he didn't have anything). He shook the machine, but it wouldn't give up the goods. He ducked into the alley when a car drove by and sighed. He scrunched up his nose and made back for the orphanage. He'd have to mop, but they'd have the rest of the paper.